


Lesser of Two

by Davechicken



Series: Prince of Omens - Egyptian AU [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:00:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21916414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Crowley watches his angel with their godsons.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Prince of Omens - Egyptian AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1508924
Comments: 14
Kudos: 127
Collections: Shinbi34's Recommendations





	Lesser of Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Patolozka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patolozka/gifts).



Crowley wondered if the angel knew just how beautiful he was. And he was. Like spun moonlight, but not reflecting the sun’s glow, and instead giving out his own. Even his robes seemed to…

Oh, but he was being ridiculous. 

He was ridiculous.

The angel only tolerated him, better the demon you know and all. He was less interested in the big ticket work, would happily just exist here without Hell ever being involved. He had no ideological reason to cause havoc, just a streak of curiosity that had since been honed to mischief, along with some self-centred interest. (No one else put him first, so he had to.)

He was the lesser of a multitude of evils, and that was all. He didn’t even know the worst of what Crowley had (admittedly inadvertently) done. And if he ever found out…

Still. It was easy to delude himself, as he watched the angel sit, cross-legged like a scribe, patiently unravelling the texts painted boldly over the papyrus sheets. Ingenious, really. Humans would write on anything. Animal skins, stones, their own skins, wax, leaves, clay. Stories about the skies, plans for irrigating crops, tales of how to behave or face the consequences, delivery orders for cattle…

And the angel sat, with Ramses on one side, and Moses on the other. Two young boys who could be no more different at heart than an angel and a demon, or so it seemed. And Moses… blissfully unaware. His stubby, childish fingers tracing the sickle, the owl, the eye. 

Aziraphale was curious, too. Always had been. That spark of wonder, but it had never seemed to misfire. He listened to the childlike questions and answered in complete earnestness (No, the dung beetle rolling the sun is a metaphor. Yes, Crowley is real. No, your cat didn’t tell you that you could have extra sweets). He steered them somewhere in the middle course, trying to keep the two horses pulling in the same direction, trying to keep them from veering to the extremes. 

And he cared. Oh, by the stars, did he care. He saw the angel bless away scuffed knees, and how his eyes always followed their adopted charges around. Pharaoh was far too busy, and the palace staff couldn’t possibly care for them the way the angel did. At times, it was almost easy enough to think they were actually theirs. 

Which was even more stupid.

It wasn’t that that made Crowley so ridiculously fond of him, though. It was a symptom of the underlying… ugh. _Goodness_. But real goodness. Not enforced rules and impossible targets. Not blind obedience and uncaring scales. He cared. He cared about everything, it seemed. He cared about the whole damn world, and had done since the start.

Sometimes - oh - sometimes - he caught the angel unawares. They’d be together, alone or in company, and he’d turn at the same time, or he’d find blue eyes already on him.

And he’d wonder.

He’d wonder.

It couldn’t extend to him, too, could it? And if it did… it was only because the angel loved everything.

It couldn’t be because he…

And Crowley would look away, bashful, wondering how a creature of his age could feel so impossibly young and foolish. Could feel so giddy-sick to his stomach, or hopeful and full of longing. How…

Fingers almost brushing, when a plate passed between them. A spark he was sure Aziraphale felt.

Maybe. Maybe he wasn’t so alone down here. If the children could live side by side… why couldn’t they, for as long as they wanted?


End file.
